Loving Liz
by Flint and Feather
Summary: Liz Sherman and Hellboy have stumbled over a few bumps on the long road to their love. Who gives the best advice - Abe Sapien, the Professor, Clay? Movieverse with some harking back to their younger years. Please R & R!
1. Chapter 1 The Awkward Age

**Disclaimer: **Hellboy, Liz Sherman and other characters of the B.P.R.D. are owned by Mike Mignola and Dark Horse publications for the comics, and by Guillermo del Toro and Revolution Studios for the feature films. This work of fiction is solely for the enjoyment of fans everywhere.

Tomboy Liz Sherman wasn't always the softest place to fall, but her practical temperament and hardiness suited Hellboy just fine. No woman of the type he would label as "glam", could ever appeal to him, or endure in his world. It was simply a fact he'd come to know. With long association, there was little of himself and his macabre origins that he needed to explain to her.

At his side, she could face whatever enemy they encountered with steady acceptance – no panic or surprise. She took it all like another day at the office in the extraordinary career to which she applied her unique abilities. Liz had made of herself, an indispensable asset to the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence.

And she was indispensable to Hellboy. Her realization of feeling deep love for him had risen clearly in her head as well as her heart. What followed were the times when, behind closed doors, she would approach him with _that _look. It always gave him to remember how long he had fought within himself the desire to own that welcoming gleam, holding back in hope that she would one day give it surely and freely. Now for him – her sultry hooded gaze lingered on his lips, then lifted in a tender stare through her thick lashes, to captivate his golden eyes.

Hellboy remembered back to a long ago time of their first significant touch - or maybe it had been important only to him. Believing he knew what to expect from 19 year old Liz on a mission, he was startled to see her crumpled to her knees on the tarmac, sobbing as she tried to extinguish her flames. Third job together. The danger was past. What was wrong? She didn't look up when he knelt by her, but in the next instant, flung herself into his arms. Her fire dissipating, she held tight around his shoulders. She redoubled her grip, and for long minutes, hid her face against his throat, trembling. It was the sweetest thing he'd ever known to embrace her and sink down to the ground where she curled herself to take refuge on his lap. Hellboy wasn't much different than any man faced with comforting a crying woman. He rubbed her back, hoping that calm would return soon.

"Let's go home", he had whispered, "You just rest."

He'd walked slowly to the aircraft, bearing her in his arms, not wanting the contact to end.

Home at the Bureau, their accustomed ease crashed, bewildering him. She stayed away entirely.

"Son, I can only surmise that Liz is sorting out her feelings," advised Prof. Bruttenholm. "Her outburst of need may have frightened her. She may be ashamed of a perceived weakness. I would tell you to be patient, and don't push."

"I can't push, 'cause I can't see her," Hellboy muttered unhappily.

Far worse, Liz had decided to leave the Bureau.

Hellboy hefted a huge armchair one-handed off the library floor. Abe Sapien watched the furniture arc through the air before his visitor set it down in front of the merman's tank with artfully controlled strength.

"Red, I'm duly impressed," Abe said with relief, "but don't, please, do it again."

"Anything for you, Blue," Hellboy promised, flopping into the chair, a picture of dejection.

Tentatively, Abe began, "I see your suffering. Is there anything I can do?"

Hellboy slowly shook his head. "I gotta stop living on that little taste."

"May I posit?" Abe asked.

The demon leaned forward to listen.

"Liz grew up with you. It became a familiar, comfortable brother-sister relationship. Your feelings grew in another direction. I strongly suspect, the same is happening in Liz."

Hellboy pulled in a breath.

"I betray no reading, Red. I've observed the two of you, as might anyone. There is a theory," Abe went on, "that youths of opposite genders, upon noting emerging sexual interest, must cease being playmates and become, in essence, strangers to each other. The males band together, as do the females, and the changing dynamic gradually leads individuals to gravitate to pairing off. It is all quite unconscious."

Hellboy nodded in wonderment. Finally he said, "Strangers, huh? I'd think we're too old to be called playmates. Maybe she's a youth, maybe I'm not."

He pondered in his room for much of the night. It didn't feel good. He hadn't wanted to become a stranger to Liz. Far from it. But did she care?

As the months passed, Hellboy pushed deeper into his routine of working out, adding ever more weight to lift, press and curl. He tried not to snark at agent Clay when that worthy friend dropped in for a beer and banter, after hours. Red found himself not in the mood to be lively company.

"Man, you're sad," remarked Clay.

The demon lifted his lip, not amused.

"But look at you!" Clay hastily switched.

"What?"

"Your waist is pulled way in. Your arms and shoulders are humungous. Your chest and back are thicker. Your pants are too big and your shirts are splitting, right?"

"Kind of," admitted Hellboy.

"It looks like you've reached your limit of rip," appraised Clay. "I'm taking you to the tailor shop tomorrow, make sure everything fits."

"Yeah, okay."

"Now talk to me, dammit!"

Clay wasn't Abe, but he was a regular guy who'd earned Red's trust and respect.

"I, uh," Hellboy began, hesitant, "want my Liz."

"Oh, yeah," mused Clay, "You deserve that. I mean it. As much as you risk for the job, you should have someone to make you – happy." Clay censored the number one consideration from his conversation. No sex? Just now, it was too crass to say out loud. Clay searched his brain to bring back memories of how it felt to be in love. But he finished with, "Red, I'll keep my eyes open and my mouth shut."

Next mission came soon enough, and three days later, big Red vaulted off the diagnostic table in the medical wing, wearing bandages over more future scars.

"No weights until you heal," warned the doctor as his patient disappeared out the door. Wondering how he would pass the time minus working out, Hellboy grabbed his mobile for an incoming call.

"Got news!" announced Clay's voice. "Someone pretty is in the library with your Dad."

"I owe you, Bud."

It wouldn't be right to barge in there. The professor had rushed straight to the medical wing when he'd heard that his son had returned and needed patching up. Now Liz? Thinking that she must have arrived minutes ago, Hellboy decided to go to his room. Restless with suspense, he lay back on his bed to stare at the ceiling. He reached for the nearest kitty, which was soon purring contentedly, curled up on his warm chest. He closed his eyes, his left hand idly stroking the cat.

"Hi."

He held his breath. The figure of Liz was indeed walking toward him, then softly creeping onto his bed to sit beside him.

"Hi," he returned, his throat dry.

She was studying him and the cat, her lips curving in a little smile. All unexpectedly, she then lay alongside him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Hold me." She pressed closer.

His right arm circled her, bringing her a little too firmly to his side.

"You! You're harder than iron!" Liz breathed with difficulty. He relaxed his hold a bit, but said nothing.

Torturous minutes passed before she spoke in a small voice, "I don't want to be alone, Red. Can I sleep here?"

"Anytime," he whispered, his emotion barely under control.

Exactly as they were, they rested together, her hand on him above the bandages. Whatever else he'd hoped she would say, this wasn't the time. And what he wanted her to know, would remain stored in his heart until the time was right.

"Don't believe there could ever be anyone else."


	2. Chapter 2 Got it Right

As more seasoned adults, it turned out that Liz and Hellboy were not a pair for making swooning declarations...but the alternative was so much better. She was soon to move into his quarters and was sitting cross-legged on his bed, watching him pump iron. He released the lat bar and stretched out his thick, glistening shoulder muscles.

"C'mon over here, Red. You look real goood," Liz' bluesy drawl was honeyed with appreciation.

"So do you." He wrapped a towel around his shorts and mopped the sweat from his face and chest. "But I need a couple of minutes – clean up."

"Do you think you could sneak me into the locker room?" she chuckled.

A split-second expression of "What?" crossed his face, seeing that Liz was on the verge of cracking up. She gave a little shriek as he snatched her off the bed into his arms and sauntered towards the men's shower room.

"Hey, if you're happy, I'm happy." Her silky gown dampened more against his chest and abs, as she wrapped her arm around his neck. "Sure you don't wanna do this at home?" His velvety whisper challenged again, "Last chance!"

"_I_ have a sense of adventure," was her sassy answer.

He gave scant notice to the male agents going about their business in the utilitarian space of the locker stacks and benches. They looked not too taken aback to see a mostly-naked Hellboy carrying his nightgowned girlfriend in his arms, she hiding her face against his shoulder and shaking with laughter. The men cleared out discreetly as Red set her down gently in a shower stall, having learned over the years, not to be surprised at anything he did.

"It's good to be king investigator," one departing agent joked behind his hand to a colleague.

"And Tom Manning's nemesis," returned the other.

Liz dropped her gown as the warm shower rained down on them. She reached up to untie the knot binding Red's hair, and smoothed the black length down his neck. "Oh, we're going to pay for this!" she laughed as she lathered soap all over her demon mate's powerful build. Amid the hot steam, slippery soap and the pair's hungry hands, the inevitable came to pass.

"I won't be able to walk out of here," Red said, mock-ominously, "unless I turn on the cold -"

"Don't you dare!" Liz giggled, slapping his hand away from the tap. "Let's merge the assets and reap the dividends!"

"I love when you talk finance to me, Babe," he purred, backing her up against the wall.

Liz had seen enough of the outside, earning her people smarts, to know that their lives together couldn't always run smooth, but taking all advantage of the honeymoon period of a new coupling, occupied them now. She couldn't blame Red for being nothing but optimistic. He seemed childishly unaware that he needed to adjust away from being such a bachelor slob at home. Liz didn't get on his back about it much, though. For her part, she'd had years of exposure to his quarters. It was as large a space as two persons could have within the industrial walls of the Bureau. Realistically, it couldn't stay piled with all the useless stuff that Red was attached to. Clearing half out would be hard, but he wanted Liz there, more than anything.

She promised to herself that she would be flirtatious, affectionate, and touch him often enough to keep the love alive through the years. She knew what could happen to couples who stopped trying. And Red would have to be taught how to hold up his end.

But right now, they were sitting on his bed while she re-tied his hair into the Samurai-style tail. Nothing disturbed the following loving hours, no summons to answer a complaint of their unruly behaviour.

"I think the guys have our back, Red," Liz smiled sleepily, "Nice."

"Mmm," he answered, "We wouldn't have got away with it in the ladies' room."


	3. Chapter 3 Boss on Board

Tom Manning never enjoyed calling Hellboy to his office, and knew how mutual it was in the demon agent's view.

And now, Hellboy had come inside, walked toward Manning's desk a few steps and stopped there, giving him a distasteful look.

"Sit down," directed Manning, in an off-hand tone. Hellboy would never do that after entering.

"I won't be here that long."

"Suit yourself," Manning shrugged.

Hellboy did walk swiftly right up against the director's desk, a ploy to force the much smaller seated man to snap his head back to look up at him. Manning didn't like his authority being mocked with such a simple action. Hellboy could so easily make his shaky bureaucratic bravado fall to pieces. It twinged Manning to realize that the hardened agents under his command had sensed his weaknesses within hours of his initial arrival. Nobody was afraid of him, and he craved genuine respect. Manning believed that he couldn't afford to be one of the guys, to get too familiar. But it did leave him feeling quite alone and unpopular when he would come upon a knot of agents laughing together, to see them instantly go quiet until he was out of sight. He knew he'd been guilty of reversing his stand on issues when it would protect his position. The man-code that permeated this Bureau had left him in the chill for kissing up, and at best, tolerated his presence. It didn't help that his contentious relationship with Hellboy had early on been one of pushing each others' buttons.

* * *

Except, Hellboy could push the hardest.

A slight smile curved Hellboy's mouth, but the steady drill of his yellow eyes always made the director look away.

"Ease up," the demon soothed, "Look, I'll sit for you." He dragged up a chair and sprawled comfortably. "So do I need my lawyer?"

"Stop, will you?" Manning retorted. "Can't we ever have a civil, man to man talk?"

"Up to you, boss, but we seem to be about a man short."

"One of these days, you might need me," huffed Manning, "Ever think of that?"

Leaning forward, Hellboy laid it out plainly. "I needed you. You got Kroenen distracted. I finished him. We're one for one on the lifesaving score."

Manning listened, unmoving, his expression frozen at the unexpected admission.

"You had Liz in here for a 'man to man'," Hellboy went on, holding up Manning's partially melted nameplate from his desk. "How did that go?"

"She's picking up your bad habits," Manning sarcastically informed, "jumping to conclusions, blowing up, stomping out. Between the two of you, I thought she'd be the calmer."

"Oh, I calmed her down," Hellboy growled, his every word dripping cool menace, "I had to. What've you got to say?"

Manning took back some of his presence with the pain of his fingers, clenching together under his desk. "You and Liz Sherman together – it's against regulations." He tried to hold his own against Hellboy's dominating gaze. "It can't continue."

"I don't care that you gave us up. I'll go to the Supreme Court with this! What're you afraid of? That we'll make more like us?!" hissed the demon.

"Now, hold on!" Manning jumped in, not having meant to get that far into the future, "You two have the human right to a consensual adult relationship. I didn't have to give you up. Washington called me to order one change, that your missions are separate from now on."

"Why?!"

"It's been a widespread government policy. For attached agents, cops, and so on. It's to keep job focus, so one's mind isn't all occupied with protecting the other." Manning took a breath and held it.

"My protection is for everybody with me," Hellboy stated without anger, to Manning's relief.

"Obvious. I've seen it. But the policy stands."

"I thought -" Hellboy began.

"I know what you thought," Manning interrupted. "You automatically expect the worst from me."

Hellboy leaned back, levelling a composed gaze at the director. "You gotta understand – would you want my sixty years, living in a place like this, thinking you'd be alone forever?"

Manning frowned and shook his head.

"And here, I lost the best man I ever knew," he said slowly, regarding the wrist holding his murdered father's rosary.

* * *

Manning appreciated this new ground. He hadn't much contemplated Hellboy's losses, knowing of only the death of the professor, nor the potential emptiness of his life. Conscious compassion had not been part of Manning's model for his leadership, but he knew he had it, and should put it into play.

"I do understand now," Manning told him, "but better if you tell me. We don't have to keep being hard on each other."

Hellboy reached for the cigar that Manning pushed across the desk to him, grinning.

"So maybe I didn't give you a chance, either," he admitted, accepting a match from Manning and taking a couple of seconds to light up. "You came on strong in the wrong way, and you got sunk."

"Wrong way?"

"You gotta feel it out, watch more than you talk. Treat everybody like they've lived and grew some good brains – and they won't run the other way."

"Was I looking down on my people?" Manning wanted to know.

Hellboy gave him a significant look. "Like us freaks? I got a handle on being an 'only one', and I know who's on my side. We can tell you've never handled a gang of guys like our regulars. They could be loyal to you if you didn't blow hard and showed you trust them."

Manning drew on his cigar, with a far away expression. He'd never figured that valuable people-management advice could come from Hellboy. And he thought to himself, 'you're doing it again, like he said'. Turning to his agent, he asked, "How did you get so at ease with this, develop the philosophy?"

Hellboy gave him an incredulous stare, like it should be the most obvious thing. "I'm a guy!"

* * *

"You and Liz have – big plans?" Manning asked, still hoping the question wasn't too personal.

"Big plans, little plans, all God's children got plans," answered Hellboy, genially enough. "We want this to work, won't have dirt thrown on us, or blocks in our way."

"Not our intention, but be gentle on less-enlightened individuals, will you?" Manning quipped.

The meeting was going much better than he'd imagined. Who knew how long Hellboy would live, barring accidents or some other fate. He had to seize the chance for the earthly comfort now offered to him, and would defend his right to love and family with all he had – like a demon, like a man.

"Your policy's gonna fall flat," Hellboy predicted. "Unless you get more than three special-talent agents like us, we're it. I know when I need pyro-power on site."

"You could be right, but I had to put it on the table – for now."

Hellboy stood up to leave. "It's been a good day," he said with satisfaction, "but don't think I've gone soft."

"Never that. Remember – my door is open."

"You're not off the hook," winked the demon. "I do some of my best work, razzing you."

Hoping he'd be able to give as good as he got, Manning watched the retreating broad back of Hellboy, as he cleared the doorway with a final flip of his tail.

* * *

Liz, waiting in his room for his return, raised an eyebrow. Patting her on the butt as he walked by, Hellboy remained silent, opening the fridge for a beer.

"Well, tell me what you did to rescind that policy!" she exclaimed.

"Didn't have to. It'll rot and die on it's own, Babe."

"What took so long?"

"Getting to know Manning," he said, flopping into his chair.

"Was it worth it?" Liz asked, getting her own beer.

"He's coming around, just got to work on himself not to drown here – or get fried by a gal I know."

"Sounds like he's regretting his approach, his methods, his sparkling personality?" she suggested, rolling her eyes.

"You know what he really is?" At his inviting look, Liz walked over to settle in his lap like an extra-large cat, and waited for his answer. Hellboy drew her head to his shoulder and stroked her smooth hair. "He's just a lonely guy, like I used to be."


	4. Not Your Average Bear

**Hellboy and Liz leave their own mark on a rare getaway to a friend's cabin. A fourth chapter one-shot slice of BPRD life and (M) loving, based on movieverse, not strictly adhering** **to the canon timeline of events.** **Reviews are so appreciated!**

**...**

By the subdued light of one amber-toned lamp at the head of his converted truck bed, Hellboy reached with all possible stealth to drag over a second pillow, and pushed it under his head to give him an extra lift as he rolled from his back to face center.

During his long life, he'd found ways to avoid the discomfort of his oversized right arm shifting underneath him while he attempted sleep in countless job locations all over creation, or outside of it. Its stony hardness and bulk trapped between his torso and whatever was underneath, could always irritate and wake him. Now, he took added care that it shouldn't disturb the sleep of his girlfriend, as well.

Tonight, Red was keeping as far to his side of the bed as possible. The couple had discovered long ago that his giant's weight depressed the mattress when he lay close to the middle, making Liz' petite frame roll down against him into the resulting valley. Suspecting that he did this on purpose, she negotiated to make him accept that sometimes, a girl just needed her own half of the bed space. So this night, with three feet of vacancy between them, Red propped himself up on pillows to enjoy the view of his sleeping lover.

He watched the slow rise and fall of her small chest, as she slept on her right side facing him, her features soft and peaceful. He loved to see her long black hair spread over her pillow, and how her thick rows of eyelashes sometimes flickered, as though she were following the events of a dream. It was only by her influence that he had come to enjoy the feel of soft bedding fabrics under and over him, and missed them when he had to do without on missions. Not that Red would ever let that detail slip to any of his agents. Since it was his habit at home to sleep unclothed, or 'raw', as he called it, the fine perks were nowhere but in his own bed. And best of all, here was his beautiful little gal who wasn't afraid to take him on.

A half sigh accompanied her languid stretch to shift position to her back, and he heard Liz softly breathe, "Red". It warmed him, this irrefutable sign that he was foremost in her subconscious mind. But right away, she lurched up in panic, choking down a scream. She cried out his name, but this time, frantic with fear. With a fast grab, he covered her igniting hands and stilled her desperately straining limbs, pulling her into the wall of his chest.

"Liz! Wake up!" he whispered tensely, "You're all right, Babe. Wake up!"

Her eyes fluttered open, focused unsteadily on him, then she hid her face with a small groan of self-disgust.

"Not – again." Her faint voice seemed to scrape her throat.

Liz shuffled her body around until she had turned sides to back against her lover. Feeling for his right arm, she drew it around front to wrap her.

"Nightmare?" Red ventured gently, "Last I knew for sure - you were thinking about _me_."

"Not my -" Liz hesitated, "not my kid kind of nightmares." She took a shaky breath, then pulled upward at the back neckline of her tank top to draw it off over her head. Liz wriggled her bare back more closely into the unobstructed heat of his skin, reassuring herself of where she was. "Something was hurting you." She clutched his arm in both of hers. "But I couldn't see it."

"It didn't happen," he comforted, kissing her shoulder to chase off the alarming images, "It wasn't true."

He felt her shiver away the last vestige of her despair.

"I used to wake from bad dreams," she murmured, "alone."

"Our jobs and this place are getting on your nerves, that's what."

...

Day by regular day, the oppressive institutional gray concrete dullness of their underground complex was beginning to grate more on the couple. Embarking on away missions gave them welcome exposure to other parts of the world, working respites that were far from restful to the body and spirit. Periods of inactivity were their necessary lot, interspersed with episodes of high suspense and generally, danger. That excitement seemed always too short-lived, but they were feeling more restless than ever before.

...

"We need a break, something different to do, H.B.," Liz griped. "I wish we could get away from here for awhile. Can't we have some kind of non-mission outing? I'm tired of the walls, tired of the food, tired of the same old suits, tired of-" as they walked together through the unchanging conformation of the corridors, Liz saw her lover stop abruptly, his brow ridge creased with questioning above his mild yellow irises.

"Of course not," she hastened to reassure, "but we could be doing it somewhere else."

Reaching their quarters, the couple sat down to brainstorm in earnest.

"It's not a great idea," Red began, "but you've never seen the Troll Market."

"Assuming we got to the Brooklyn Bridge, do you know how to get inside?"

"Not without major wreckage," admitted Red. "Johann does, but talking him into that would be a stretch. He'd think I might bust up the place, because last time – I did."

"Well, how good is it, really? Would you want to spend a night, or buy anything? What's the currency?"

"It's like a medieval little town," Hellboy remembered, trying to revive the sights and sounds. "Lots of bodies moving, magic shops, outdoor vendors, curb services, metal smelters, and street performers, weird food. I think, traveller rooms, every kind of magical being, except human." He continued with a gathering frown, "They trade in - uh - bones, creature parts, live cats -" A fury of the unthinkable glittered in his eyes as he snarled to himself, "No! Not cats, no way! Forget it!"

Liz wrinkled her nose. "I'll be glad to forget it, this time. Sounds messy and smelly, and too much like work."

''Yeah, my bad. I'll – figure something out," he promised, already brooding over the probable obstacles.

"You have solid veteran friends here. Why not ask them for suggestions?"

Red began to scroll a list of names through his mind, with faraway pensive eyes. After a minute he snapped to, and saw Liz apparently waiting for a reveal.

"I'm all over it, Babe," he assured. "I'll tell you, when it's a go."

...

"Lon," Hellboy broached, about to present his dilemma to the Bureau pilot, "Maybe you – I mean you're – you might know.."

"Red, spit it out!" Lon yelped, not about to keep nodding to more half-assed phrases.

Best to be direct, he gave it up. "It's like this...Liz wants a short trip, to get out of here for awhile -"

"Then, why doesn't she?" Lon butt in.

"Both of us, at the same time, same place!"

"Oohhh." Lon raised his eyes to the ceiling and distractedly whistled a tune, bringing to mind the historical difficulty of such wish fulfilment. He slapped his insignia cap against his palm a dozen times, switched to sharply snapping a fast rhythm with the fingers of both hands, then erupted with a rapid-fire, "Wait-wait-wait! You've come to the right man, Bud! My cabin's empty, sweet little island, no close neighbours, and my own pontoon plane."

"You're offering?" Hellboy asked, forgetting the hyperactivity of the pilot's thinking tics.

"Got to keep the ladies on our side, yeah?" snickered Lon, then shook his head, saying frankly, "I know it's been a small hell, all the years you've been stuck in here."

Red quirked up a corner of his mouth and nodded once.

"But if you two break my bed, you buy me a new one!" Lon pealed his infectious laugh.

...

Hellboy laid out Lon's proposal to Liz.

"He'll only let me pay for utilities, and fuelling his plane."

"Can't get more fair than that," Liz said, agreeably intrigued. "Any big predators to worry about?"

"It's not a backwoods-type island," he answered. "Lon said no cougars or bears ever took on the swim."

"Then let's shoot for a week? Soon?"

...

Softening up Director Tom Manning to the idea wasn't so tough, after all. He'd decided to be optimistic for the best in allowing his perceived most volatile pair of agents to take some rest and recreation away from home. He'd read a snippet of medical theory that indicated, men committed to mates and especially those with children, tended to be more responsible, less reckless – something to do with lowered testosterone levels. But even Lon Tyler, a husband, father, and trusted pilot, could act like a bag of squirrels, nonetheless. No administrative complications were crawling up Manning's back, since Lon, on his own time in his personal aircraft, would be transporting the special agents to a place of relative seclusion. Manning rubbed at his temples, as if he might call up a genie to supply him the most advantageous of predictions, and mumbled his hopeful mantra. "Trust them. Try – omigod, to trust them."

...

Lon supervised distribution of the cargo load within his four-seater plane on the day of take-off, instructing Hellboy to stay at center of the rear bench.

"Do you fly this a lot?" Liz asked Lon, happily peering out her front seat window.

"Mostly during hunting and fishing seasons," he answered with satisfaction. "I own her with three partners. The wife learned to love the sports."

The lake landing on approach to Lon's property was smooth and accurate. Red and the pilot unloaded the supplies onto the dock. Liz stood dreamy-eyed, inhaling the clean, piney air.

Lon walked up to unlock the small quonset hut beside the log cabin, and returned with a hand truck to transport the luggage. He brought the couple inside the hut, and pointed to a padlocked iron trapdoor in the concrete floor.

"That's my vault for a couple of light rifles, two revolvers. If you'd like to target practice.."

"I won't want to handle firearms here, Lon," Red somewhat apologized, scanning around the hut. Lon stood proudly by his Rhino ATV, to which Hellboy shook his head.

"And most of what you need for fishing is mounted on the wall. You'll only have to dig up worms and net minnows."

"I always felt like it was being mean to the fish – and the bait," Liz excused, almost shyly.

"I still think you'll find something in here to suit you," Lon shrugged. "Here's the key."

Taking them into the cabin, Lon said, "It's pretty basic. Powered by generator, has a big water cistern, septic tank and indoor plumbing. The wife insisted on that."

"It's cozy," Liz complimented. "Lead on."

They followed as their host obliged, pointing out the amenities of the cabin. "Living room, eat-in kitchen, man-cave, kids' rooms, her bathtub, my shower. Never needed more." He brought them to a big room with a lake view and announced grandly, "And at last, here's the master bedroom," Lon grinned, "where it all takes place." He then took closer notice of the huge bundle Red was bringing to the room, and playfully snatched it out of his arms.

"What's in the bag, Red?" Lon asked slyly, as he gave his wide burden a number of suggestive squeezes before tossing it back. "It's all cushy and fluffy. A bunch of your cats?"

Before Red could signal her to deflect, Liz answered, "A down bed and duvet."

Lon roared a gusty laugh, enjoying the demon's discomfiture.

"You might need to fire up the wood stove, but make all the heat you want, kids," Lon winked, handing over more tagged keys.

Accompanying Lon back to his plane, Liz and Red anticipated total freedom for a week.

The pilot waved as he boarded. "Call if you have questions!"

...

"Let's put the food away, then take a tour outside," Liz suggested.

The couple loaded up one refrigerator and had enough to fill another. Finishing the task, they made a closer study of the second fridge that was Lon's canvas for collage.

"All covered with every beer, wine and hooch label," Red chuckled. "A his and hers set."

When they took some time to make their bed, Liz wasn't surprised to see Red haul up the king mattress from the box spring, and set it on the floor. Together, they covered the mattress with the thick down underlay, fitted their sheets, and spread the big duvet on top.

Red grabbed a blanket and smiled, "Let's go out."

Liz followed her mate to the end of the dock, where they sat close together, draped with the blanket.

"It's only two o'clock, Lover, and I'm not cold," Liz whispered against his shoulder.

"See the boats?" he pointed out.

Liz stretched up to scan the lake, where several sailboats made their silent way in the distance, and much nearer, smaller craft plied the surface with oars and paddles.

"So this must be a designated non-motor lake," she deduced. "Their deep keels won't let them come close to shore, but.." her words were cut off when Red surprisingly drew the blanket over their heads, where she met his nuzzling kiss.

"But," he picked up with a quiet chuckle, "I still need you to help me hide from the racing sculls and canoes."

They stayed awhile to fill their eyes with the limitless expanse of wide open sky reflected in the blue of the lake, to relax to the gentle lapping of little breeze-driven ripples. Several loon mothers floated serenely along, with little chicks on their backs. Other single loons were seen to dive in a blink, then re-emerge at a far distance. Groups of mallard ducks with dozens of downy offspring paddled in the shallows. These common sights and sounds, they drank in with eager thirst for a beauty that couldn't be found within their headquarters' confinement.

Returning to the cabin, they loaded the rustic kitchen table with the first evening's supper, and after, inspected the details of their retreat.

"It all smells piney," Liz marked, carrying her supplies into the bathroom. "See how tight the logs walls are fitted?"

"Nice work," agreed Red, running his fingers along the chink filling. "Too bad he needed to bar the windows."

"We'll just keep things locked up and secure, the way he obviously wants."

"Yeah – can't be too careful with someone else's stuff."

Later, they nestled into the comfort of their bed and left the television off. Fresh night air breezed through an open window, a little cool, but it let them listen clearly to the occasional hoots of owls occupying the trees, and the scrabbling of raccoons on the deck, fighting the lid of a garbage can. The thrum of bullfrogs and chirping of crickets sounded a continuous symphony. When they startled at a ripping screech, Liz whispered, "You'd be amazed at the tiny size of the owl who makes that scary noise."

Red shifted lightly over her. "I'm already amazed," he murmured. "How come you know everything?"

...

The next morning, dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, they embarked on more exploration of the island. Some hundred yards from the cabin, they came upon Lon's area set aside for firearms practice. Red inspected the silhouette and bullseye cardboard targets stapled to several plywood stands, backed with thick bales of hay. Every target was peppered with dozens of bullet holes in tight clusters.

"If this doesn't say 'trespassers will be shot', nothing will," he grinned.

"It just looks out of place, here," Liz replied.

Walking to a further shoreline, they quietly approached a group of Canada geese nesting on a wide clearing of short grass. Charmed by the sight of fuzzy yellow-brown goslings clustered under the wings of their dozing mothers, and more infants tottering among the adult birds, Liz whispered, "I'm glad we got here for birthing season." She raised her camera to capture a video of the family scene.

The faint, unnatural sounds were enough to catch the ear of the nearest big gander, which jumped up from his position of repose, ready to confront the possible danger. He stomped the ground with resolute purpose toward Liz and Red, honking and raising his wings high. More ganders rushed up to form a tight platoon, adding to the noisy alarm of threat display. They stretched forward their long necks to hiss loudly at the couple, gathering their compact heavy bodies for a rush of attack.

Red and Liz backed away with care, all the while impressed by this postcard of nature.

"Easy now, big fellas," Red purred to the gander offensive, as he and Liz distanced themselves further from the nesting ground. Nothing more was needed to appease the territorial males, and they wheeled to return to their families.

"I like those guys," declared Hellboy, as he took Liz' hand.

Their next discovery was a gentle wide depression in the ground, inside a roughly circular stand of pines, with lowest long branches drooping and weaving together only some five feet above the earth. The dip was filled with brown pine needles. Hellboy ducked under and knelt to plow his hands through the deep patch of soft dead needles. Sensing an opportunity, Liz reached to her mate's shoulders to push down the straps of his backpack, letting it drop to the ground. He looked up at her impish subtle grin in tacit agreement when she pulled out a blanket, rolled it into a long pillow and arranged it at the edge of the patch. She lay down on the depth of the fragrant needles and gave him a saucy slow blink. When he took his place beside her, they looked above to the sheltering roof of low pine boughs crossing over them, and were swept into a comfortable sense of exclusive solitude.

"We're invisible," he whispered to the trees, and turned to gather Liz into his arms. She raised her upper leg over his hip and snuggled her head into his chest. Breathing the fresh wafting breezes, and giving themselves over to the peace of the setting, they easily fell asleep.

When Liz awoke well refreshed, she dragged over the backpack for a bottle of water. Hellboy stirred at her movements, and opened his eyes to her swallowing a long drink, then offering him the rest. As he finished it off, Liz leaned over him. She kissed him lightly at first, then with deepening enticement while her hand played across the front of his jeans. He wound his fingers through her hair and pressed heatedly into her intensified caresses, then broke off the kiss.

"Woman..." he rumbled, holding her above him to read her expression.

"I need you to love me," she purred, grasping the sides of his sweatshirt to hike it up his torso, "right here." Her hands deftly opened up his jeans. While he freed his arms and head from his shirt, his tail curled and lashed down with a vehement impatience. His side glance found Liz reclined and still, her half-veiled eyes speaking one seductive challenge to him. She lay with her arms out at rest, and expanded her small bosom beneath her clothing with a full desirous breath, exhaled a whispering sigh through lips parted with eloquent invitation, to ravish her.

Their eyes locked steadily while he stripped with brusque speed, and speaking nothing, curled his hand around her waist to pull her to him. She kept her quiescence when his flesh hand whisked down her jeans, until the moment his mouth seized the tender peaks of her smooth little breasts, so craving to yield to his fondling, keen hunger. While he lavished them with lingering, wet caresses, she moaned and sighed each breath as he excited all through her, more tingling heat than she could endure. And when he felt the insistent grip of her small hands behind his biceps as she anchored to writhe upward to him, his lips again fevered her erect buds with longing for what would follow.

A thread in her mind flamed with a rush of scandal - had she inspired a trace of Red's arrogant royal demon to emerge? She had made him unstoppable. She was eager for all of him. She gleefully, silently shivered as she watched him reach to take charge of her. Uncompromising, he set her into position on her back. He needed to see her eyes, always, and Liz wasn't about to look away. And what he saw in them, was a radiance of awe as he towered over her on his knees.

He fixed on her reactions as she received him by gradual inches. Her features cringed when he pulled back, melted into rapture when he slowly pressed deeper. His hands at her waist held control against her movements as she tried twisting up to meet him. He prolonged her anticipation, making her wait for the moment that her inevitable hitch and gasp at a pang of shock, signalled that he had pushed all the way to her limit. There it was. With a low, rolling growl, he rocked in visceral driving lust, staring into her gaze of ecstatic surrender.

Her lashes fluttered closed, her open lips breathing out delighted gasps as her body embraced the repeated stretch of his hard caresses within her. Her head swam with the strength and joy of it. Because she loved him, because he was her own powerful lover, because he loved her, because she was so captivated by his arousal, Liz replayed those thoughts as he brought her to the edge. She stiffened, writhed in his hands, and her tight inner pulses made him groan. That sound sent the ultimate heat to her core, loosing spasms of wonderful release.

When she was able to look up at him, he stared back with disarming danger and canted his hips for another deep entry. She thrilled to explore the taut tension of his belly, to feel it power his plunges into her swollen heat. Very soon, he would take her gift, she knew, when his eyes shut in pained concentration, and his breath stilled tightly in his chest. As she waited in trembling to hear it, he uttered a rasping moan at his first hotblooded stream. With a last buck into her, he froze, hostage to the force of his surges, while Liz held him tight in the twining of her legs. Under close cover of the pines, she listened with blissful pleasure to his rough cries and shuddering breaths. At last, he dropped forward onto his hands, fingers curling deep into the bed of pine needles, and remembered where he was. Raising his eyes, he was given her alluring smile. He sank to her side as she let him free. She slid her arm under his neck and lay her head down to listen to the excited rhythm of his heart.

"You rocked my world, Babe," he whispered, "like always."

"You rocked me harder."

Red hugged her in his flesh arm. His right raised a handful of needles and let them sift through his stone fingers.

"This would be great to take home," he mused to her, "The playground of Eden."

"We're wearing a lot of it, now," she said, sitting up to brush some off his sweat-sheened back.

She found his shirt and folded it. With a little kiss, she placed it beneath his head.

"Ah, Babe," he sighed, feeling another sleep overtaking him. He returned the favour by making a pillow of her shirt next to his, and unfolding the blanket to cover them.

The drained lovers turned to hold each other, and in a matter of moments, drifted deep into carefree oblivion.

...

The cabin temperature was sometimes too cool, a little damp in the evenings, prompting Liz to fuel and light up the one source of heat, the wood stove. The stove performed well, but the small supply of dry wood had lasted one night. Inexplicably, Lon's woodpile was not very close to the buildings, but a short distance above the rise from the dock. When Red lifted the tarp, he saw that none of the short log lengths stored off the ground on pallets, was fit for use in the stove. Several disturbed little garter snakes slithered to escape from the bottom of the pile. Liz heard the grinding of Red's stone fingers as he curled his fist. He chose a wide chunk of log, set it on end on the grass, then gave it a mighty downward smash.

Inspecting the results, they saw that the wood was indeed cracked, but also had been driven into the ground until it's top was flush with the surface. The displaced earth had been forced upward into a circular mound around the unfortunate log.

"Well, you can bury all the wood," Liz giggled, "or do it the old-fashioned way."

"I'll get these split," Red insisted. "I saw some axes in the hut."

Liz jogged after him to help. By the axes, she found a wood grenade.

"This splits firewood," she offered, handing him the solid iron cone.

Armed with a long-handled axe, Red set up another length of log on its end. He embedded the tip of the grenade into the center with a light strike of his stone hand. Liz wisely backed well behind him as he gripped the axe.

"A tiny tap, now," she reminded.

At his two-handed swing through the splitter with the heel of the axe, both halves of the log flew sideways at angles of steep trajectory, and his force plunged the axe head, plus grenade, a full couple of feet into the ground below.

"Aw, crap..."

Liz snickered, "If you don't know your own strength by now, Lover, you never will!"

"Just practice," Hellboy retorted,"for the next one." And he started on his stride back to the hut for the second axe.

"As a woodsplitter, you ain't no Abe Lincoln!" Liz called after him.

"Good!" he called back, "He ain't your type!"

Liz took hold to try wiggling the portion of protruding axe handle and found it well stuck, as she had expected.

A sudden strange voice made her look up.

"Hey, Miss, need a hand?"

A scruffy-haired young man hailed her with an exaggerated smile as he climbed unsteadily up the slope. Liz saw that he must have beached a small aluminum boat up on the pebble shore.

"You sure are a tasty little fox," he slurred, looking her up and down. "Are you alone?"

A second man appeared, scrambling to catch up to the other, beer bottle in hand.

"Yeah, baby, you alone?" he parroted, staggering sideways.

They were both stupid drunk, dressed in droopy, ripped jeans and greasy fleece hoodies.

Liz returned only the remote aspect of an automaton, spoke no answer and gave no sign that her half-demon was then pelting up the bank behind the intruders.

Unseen, Red snatched both by their collars, roaring the deep-chested displeasure of an enraged grizzly. Frozen in place, whimpering, the intruders hardly felt the backs of their hoodies yanked powerfully up and forward to cover their heads. No bear would do that. Grabbing hold of their belts, Red jolted the screaming men off their feet. They curled into fetal bundles as Red carried them to the water's edge, never letting up his bursts of wild growling. He gave the terrified pair a couple of shakes before he flung them into their empty boat. Wading in, Hellboy pulled the stern around until the bow faced open water and shoved hard, with a final reverberating snarl. The boat arced up and made several low skips over the lake surface before splashing down a few hundred yards from shore. When the drunks screwed up the courage to uncover their heads and look back, they saw nothing.

Red picked up the new axe he'd thrown down, and hurried back to Liz.

"Didn't expect to have to pretzel anybody here," he told her. "You okay?"

"They never touched me, but you made them wet their pants," Liz chuckled. "And they left this behind."

Hellboy approached the intruders' large canvas duffel, gave it an investigative kick, then dumped the contents onto the grass.

"Skin and Grin won't be returning for these, or complaining to police that their break-in tools were stolen," he stated surely.

Liz looked over the collection – a couple of well-used iron pry-bars, a strap wrench, flashlights, bolt cutters, screwdrivers, empty feed sacks, battered gloves and a little box of lock picks.

"No," she agreed, "and this more than makes up for you breaking Lon's axe."

"Yeah, I'd better start a list," he agreed, taking the bag and axe to the woodpile. He set up a log for another effort, on the flat stump platform he'd just discovered.

"You're all soaked," Liz pointed out.

"Once I split enough of this wood, and you fire up the stove," he assured, "I'll dry out fine."

Liz walked some twenty feet away, and took a seat on the grass.

"Aww, you don't trust me!" he teased, lining up his strike and lifting the axe overhead.

"Of course I do." She raised her voice to carry over the distance. "Keep your tail clear, and don't cut yourself!"

...

It's pretty warm today," Hellboy noted, as the couple was finishing lunch on their last day. "We could get out on the lake."

"In what?" she wanted to know. "Lon sold his boat, and even if we had one, it wouldn't be smart for us to be out there, anyway."

"I found you a boat," he answered, "self-propelling."

"Show me."

Unlocking the storage hut, Red walked Liz over to a red kayak at the far end. "How about this?"

She climbed into the kayak and stretched out her legs. He took down the paddle and put it into her hands.

"You ride," Hellboy said. "I'll swim beside."

It was a fun way to make the circuit around the island, as Liz learned the rhythm of manipulating the paddle. Red swam between the kayak and shoreline. There were a lot of times for him to submerge out of sight, when other friendly paddlers passed and waved to Liz. Glad for the chance to take photos from this vantage point, Liz would stop as often as necessary while Red held the kayak from rocking.

Gliding toward the goose nursery, Liz scooped water to halt. Sure enough, the ganders ran up to cluster at the shoreline, honking, hissing, and holding aloft their wide wing spans. She hurried to resume paddling when the first one took a running jump into the lake, followed by the rest. Their webbed feet slapped the surface, and together with the lift of their flapping wings, created a storm of bodies running over the water at Red.

"Ow! Quit!" she heard him yell in the midst of the ganders, striking him with their sturdy wing joints. "We're going! Ow!" He dived away from the flurry and broke surface, grinning, by the kayak. "Battle speed, Babe," he chuckled, taking hold of the back end.

"I got the shot!" she crowed, holding her paddle off the water as he propelled them away from the nursery.

Taking a break on the far end of the island, Red carried the kayak out of sight. They sat on the grass to eat lunch, while Liz scrolled through her captures. She giggled, showing him her last video.

"Me, taking a goose gang beat-down," he described sarcastically, "I love it."

On their way back, Liz stopped once to photograph a large number of unconcerned turtles sunning themselves on rocks and logs. Knowing it would be afternoon by the time they arrived home, Liz paddled with a will, now in splendid control of the little craft. With a day of continuous exercise behind them, Red put away the kayak, and Liz prepared a huge final evening supper.

They spent the dusk seated on the dock, counting the fish jumping high for flies, and that night Liz reminded him that their luscious bedding was filled with the softest goose down.

"Sweet revenge," she heard Red snicker, as he snuggled in with a sigh of perfect comfort.

"Even better," she smiled, kissing him, "sweet sleep."

...

The morning Lon flew in, Liz and Red had returned all in the cabin to its original state and were lounging on the deck. They strode down to the dock to greet him.

"Have a good time?" he asked, "No problems?"

"It all went fine!" Liz answered.

"Yeah, all fine," Hellboy repeated.

Then Lon adopted an exaggerated swagger as he walked up the dock while scanning suspiciously about the property, then stood with hands on hips as he turned to ask with a narrow-eyed mock foreboding, "Anything you need to tell me?"

"Uh - you might hear local buzz," Red began a little uncomfortably, "that you have some monster on the loose here."

Lon looked quizzical. "Do go on."

"Take a look," suggested Red, leading Lon to the quonset hut, and the bag of tools dropped by the would-be thieves. Hearing the story, Lon laughed so hard that he had to sit down.

"My guard monster!" he choked, "I think I'll keep it!"

The grenade and axe head had been easily retrieved. Walking to the woodpile, Lon reared back to see that every piece had been split down to fit the stove.

"You kidding, Red?!" he exclaimed, "I'll take a smashed axe handle any day, for all this chopping you saved me!" With Lon's immediate decision to keep it all dry, he and Red made fast work of carrying cords of firewood into the hut.

Making a final tour of the cabin to be sure that nothing had been forgotten, Red and Liz waited for Lon to complete his fastidious locking up. They loaded and boarded his pontoon plane.

As Lon checked his gauges and picked up his sunglasses, he turned around to stare hard at Red, and asked with gleeful mischief, "Did you kids find the love grotto? Hmm?"

"We found all of them," Liz jumped in, with a straight face. She handed her camera to Lon, smirking, "Now, watch the geese!"


End file.
